Disclaimer: Tia and Sean are mine. All other characters mentioned are Joss' dolls that I stole like the evil big sis I am. *g*
Rating: PG
Spoilers: IWRY, maybe.
Season: Future fic.
Teaser: K, so people were bugging me for a sequel to 'Four Lives for the Price of One' and here it is. It swaps POV, as you'll see.
Author's note: K, I'm desperate. I dedicate this to my dog Bosun, a five month old five stone Bullmastiff. Now Bosun, see that middle aged man over there with the briefcase saying 'BtVS Scripts'? Yes? Ready, and, attack!!!

Tia

Today's the day. Or night, considering that's when the battle will commence. It will be the final battle, the one that will decide whether Good or Evil triumphs. It will be the end to all fighting. But then, didn't they say the same thing about World War One?

I still find it hard to believe that the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. My shoulders, out of all the people in the world. I take after my mother; she had small shoulders too.

I remember her so clearly. The way she laughed in the morning sun. The way she would come home late at night bruised and tired, and fall asleep in dad's arms. Neither knew I was awake, watching her intently in case something dreadful should happen. I miss her all the time. In my early years as a Warrior she taught me how to fight like she did. She was a Warrior too, the greatest of all time.

I was so young when she died, no older than twelve. The lowest creatures on this Earth, vampires, kidnapped me and poisoned me so that I could cast no magic or protect myself in any way. But she came and rescued me. There were maybe twenty demons there, and she fought them with such courage. I watched her take many vicious blows that would kill a normal human. And somehow she survived. She carried me home, as weak as she was. Dad and Willow had a cure for me. It tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, and left me slightly light-headed. I remember Sean holding my hand, comforting me because I was so afraid. And then we noticed our mother, stretched out on the floor. Her head rested in dad's lap, and he wept like a child.

My father was broken after that day. I was so afraid to look at him that first week. Afraid that he would hate me for being the cause of her death. When I finally built up the courage to look him in the eyes, he burst in to tears and I cradled him to me as I would Sean. He cried so many tears that week; it was hard to believe he had once been as vicious a demon as the ones I face.

At the funeral there were no tears from him. He stared at her still body in the coffin like a starving man staring at food denied to him. He placed a single white rose on her breast among the dozen red ones from the others. There was a look of pure peace on her face, a stark contrast to the grief written on my father's.

Every night after the funeral he would go to her plaque at the cemetery. He didn't know it, but I followed to keep him safe. I couldn't lose two parents in such a short span of time.

But only a year later, he also passed on. There was no reason for his death. It wasn't suicide, or murder, or old age. Willow and Anya thought that maybe he'd cast a spell to stop his heart from beating once again. Sean and I know the most probable reason. A broken heart, a lost soul. He had no reason to live so the world cut him free.

His ashes were scattered with my mother's in the rose bushes at the cemetery. I thought it was ironic how he turned to dust despite his humanity. I miss him also, but I'm glad he's finally at rest. He had seen too much in this world and beyond, and still survived. I think I inherited that strength of character from him, as has Sean, else we would have gone mad a long time ago.

As children, we went to live with Willow and Oz and their children. They knew of our heritage and accepted us, with no jealousy at all. They didn't complain when Willow gave me lessons in magic, so that I claimed most of their mother's time. Maybe it was because we were so sullen and quiet as children. I don't remember Sean cracking a smile after the death of our parents. He still finds it hard now.

But I fight tonight not just for humanity, but for my parents and my brother. Without them I would never have become the Warrior I am. Even though Sean suffered as much as I did, he still listened to my problems and held me as I cried. He hid his emotions so well; I rarely knew what he was thinking or feeling. It's the same now. Sometimes I'll catch him staring off into space, brooding like mother used to say father did when they first met. He looks so much like dad, and people say I'm a spitting image of my mother. Maybe that's why dad was so emotional when he looked at me for the first time after her death.

The time for remembering is ending. Now I must fight the battle at hand as best I can. I do it for all those near and dear to me. November 2012. November: Thanksgiving, the day Sean and I were conceived. 2012: the Mayans predicted the end would come this year. Maybe it will, but not without a good fight.

I pull on my elasticated sports gloves that once belonged to my mother. They are worn with age, but they have always served their purpose. My mother will fight this fight too, because she will always be here. This just gives her a physical presence, something I need desperately to win. And I will win, even if it's the last thing I do.

*****

Sean

She emerges from her motel room and I am once again struck with awe and fear. She's my sister, this body of power and magic. She can save the world, and in me she trusts her deepest secrets. I am bonded with her in a way most people cannot comprehend. We have our parents to thank for that. They were so close they could almost read each others' minds. But being this close brings me a feeling of dread. What would I do without her?

She flashes me a brief smile, filled with pain and sorrow and fear. Fear is the most predominant in her hazel eyes, the ones that I can read like a book. She gazes back into mine and a silent message passes between us. If she goes, I go. We all go.

She suddenly whips around on her heel and strides down the hallway. Her blonde hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, bouncing with each step. Her bare tanned arms swing loosely at her side. I hurry after her. I'm the chaperon for the world's heroine.

I reflect on our extended past as we cruise down the highway in the beat-up truck we own. We've suffered so much together; we can't lose after it all. Being the normal mortal that I am, I don't remember things as clearly as Tia does. But I remember our parents like they're still here. Unknown to anyone, I draw pictures of us together as a happy family. Mom had once mentioned how I had a talent for drawing like my father. In that year after her death, after he came home from the graveyard, he would sit at the kitchen table and draw. The pictures were always of mom. Sometimes she was laughing with her friends; sometimes she was playing with us. I remember looking at one picture when I'd gone downstairs in the early morning hours. It was of our mother, as always, lying naked on the couch. If she hadn't have been dead I would have blushed furiously. But the way she was drawn conveyed only true love, and it proved to me that dad was hanging on to her memory as a lifeline. I guess the lifeline failed.

I glance over at my sister. She is staring bleakly out at the dark landscape and the clear night sky. I wish I could comfort her this time as I always have. But this is her battle, not mine. There's no emotional front to this. We win, we party. We die, we suffer eternal torture. Win or lose.

As I pull the car up at the old school in Sunnydale, a feeling of cold dread creeps into my soul and manifests itself there. It spreads like a disease through my every nerve and cell. My mind screams at me to turn around and get Tia out of there, away from the dangers that approach.

The Oracles told my parents that we would defeat the evil and live happy lives. When we confronted them, they told us the truth. We may die trying to save the world, but we may live to see it safely through. Who knows if we'll survive? Who knows anything anymore?

I turn to look at my sister. She has masked her emotions, her fear. She knows that if the demons smell that fear, then the world is doomed. I look deeply into her eyes as I hold her hands. Reassuring words won't work in this situation; there's nothing I can do to protect her. We embrace each other fiercely, speaking words of family love and loyalty to each other. Finally she pulls away and looks over to the wreck that is Sunnydale High. She senses the evil coming. Her whole posture visibly shifts, preparing for battle of its own accord. Hopefully it won't have to do much fighting. All she has to do is use her magic. With one last, sad smile, conjured just for me, she exits the car and heads towards the ruins with a fearsome courage and a warrior's heart. I send up prayers to the higher powers that control everything to keep her safe. Let her win if possible, or die quickly and painlessly. No more hurting for her, I beg of thee.

*****

Tia

I feel tears prick the back of my eyes as I make my way to the carcass of my mother's old school. I blink them away, there is no time for emotion, I must think clearly if I am to succeed in the right path of my destiny.

I can feel the coldness of evil grow as I approach it. My skin crawls and my instincts scream at me to run, this is too great an evil for me to face. But who else can possibly take my place? There is no one else, just me. That's what it comes down to eventually, the demons from Hell and other cruel dimensions versus me. And I'm not only fighting for the mortal world which I love and hate at once, but it's every other dimension too. Not all demons are cruel and evil, and they need protecting when the thin barriers between realms fall. And that's me. I hate being the centre of attention.

I enter the remains of the school library, where my mother and her friends used to plan their attack on the newest rival. There under a pile of rubble is the Hellmouth. The entrance to a demon's dimension, full of pain and suffering. It emanates heat and a dull red glow. The magic I must perform is to be used only when the portal opens up to reveal the horrors inside. Carefully I make my way over to the hole in the ground. It rumbles and purrs beneath my feet, preparing to open and swallow the world. And then the ground groans as rock grinds against rock and a blast of evil magic shoots up from the rip in dimensions, forcing me to stumble backwards and fall over debris. The screams and wails of the damned assault my ears, and the wicked, mocking laughter soon follow. I know that if I survive this, those sounds will haunt me in all of my dreams. As I climb to my feet, a large gash in the fabric of space and time rips directly in front of me. Swirling purple and red clouds can be seen within, hypnotic to anyone other than me. But there is only me.

Dark figures appear in the back ground, inhuman silhouettes striving for the mortal realm. I clamp down on all my emotions except hate and stand my ground. I'll need my anger to win. Suddenly, just inside of the portal a gas forms, before solidifying into the shape of a human. At first it has no features, but slowly blonde shoulder length hair appears, followed by hazel eyes and soft cheeks. I'm staring into the face of my mother. But the evil radiating from her body tells me that it's not her. My head accepts this, but my heart swells at the sight of her. And then she smiles at me. It looks so much like her, but there's a certain twist of her lips that differs. It's not her. It's not. My heart heaves a sigh of defeat and shuts down again.

"Hello child," it whispers to me with a touch of coldness unhidden in its voice. Anger swells within me. How dare this creature use my mother's form to attack my world? I glower at it but remain silent. It takes a step forward but I stay still, despite my common sense telling me to flee for my life. "What's the matter?" it taunts, "Demon got your tongue?" I lift my chin up defiantly and it studies me with interest. "You're so much like her, y'know. Not just in body, but in spirit. But she didn't defeat me, though. I am The First. Nothing can defeat me." I smile at it with hatred.

"Really," I can hear myself say over my racing heart, "Then this'll shock you." It cocks its head to one side as I close my eyes and begin the chant I began learning two years after my mother's death. I can feel the shock and anger roll off it, and my evil smile grows. ".implorum di shraytus." I know the chant off by heart, it's the accompanying power and concentration that I had to work on for so long. It screams and lashes out at me, but it hasn't enough power in this dimension to physically affect anything. Its arm passes through my body, making me shudder from the morphus feel. ".hayana reximon lowestus." My eyes snap open and are glazed over. I channel the power through my body and with one lasting cry of anger that wrecked my mind worse than the tortured souls trapped in Hell, it is gone. The portal snaps shut with a resounding crash that echoes throughout the universe and I slump to the ground, suddenly drained and weak. If this is the end for me then so be it. I won.

*****

Sean

The sound waves rocked the van and set off several car alarms as they flew threw me and across the town, the state, the country and beyond. I immediately knew she'd won. As quick as lightening I flew into the carcus of the school and into the library. Curled into a foetal position, Tia lay on the floor smiling. I rush over to her side and pull her into my arms. She looks up at me through half-closed eyes.

"I won," she whispers almost inaudibly. I nod and smile at her with pride, before scooping her firmly to my chest and hurrying out of the building. It isn't safe in there.

On the road, with Tia sleeping in the passenger seat, I let everything sink in a piece at a time. We survived. Humanity is safe. I smile at the thought. Tia won the war. My smile of security spreads with pride. Tia is alive, and so am I. A whoop of happiness leaps from my throat as I jump in my seat. I grab my slumbering sister and pull her to me, kissing her head with brotherly pride. If the Oracles were right, then things can only get better from here. But how much better can you get than being alive?

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